


Money can't buy you happiness.

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adopted Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Human, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Los Angeles, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Orphan Stiles Stilinski, POV Stiles, Paris (City), Prostitute Derek Hale, Rich Stiles Stilinski, Sort of alcoholic Stiles, Tennis Instructor Derek Hale, chauffeur!Isaac, lifestyles of the stupid rich, waitress!Allison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:16:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stiles is a rich boy and Derek is the hot new tennis instructor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, this was supposed to be a super short little idea to escape into the world of the wealthy for a while and then it got away from me and I tried to reign it in and then it was taking up all my time and I got pretty overwhelmed and now I just need to just post it and get it off my mind. Unbetaed and it's really late and I have had one too many hot spiked apple ciders (delicious tho) so there are going to be a lot of errors (both in judgment and spelling). I'm sorry for everything. 
> 
> For warnings, the only thing I can think of is that Stiles drinks quite a bit, so probably skip if that is a trigger for you.

Looking back, meeting Derek Hale was the best and the worst thing to happen to Stiles' life since his parents died and he came to live with the 7th richest man in the country.

  
Actually, looking back, nothing much of anything had happened in the 8 years between the two events at all. The entire time was a blur of pools, jets, parties, drugs, drinking, sleeping, and fake everything. Fake girls, fake friends, fake lawns, fake boobs, fake interest, fake happiness. Most of it was a haze of Adderall and Prozac mixed with whatever 20 year old scotch was at the marble bar in the sitting room. That's what took Stiles through most of his teenage years.

Mostly he missed his mom and dad. He spent a lot of the rest of his energy hating his uncle. Even though he had willingly taken him in after the accident, he was a cold man, brutal in his business dealings as well as his interactions with his orphaned nephew. It's not that his uncle was a tyrant, he just... didn't seem to care about anything that wasn't going to make him money. And Stiles had certainly failed dear old uncle in that department. With no interest in big business or elite schools full of boys playing god, well, Stiles became a footnote in his family's life. He was pretty much left to do his own thing.

 

The day Stiles met Derek, “his own thing” was going to the club and drinking until sundown, where upon he could go out and sit in a VIP booth with 20 other people and drink alone some more. Poolside at the club was warm and much preferable to his cold marble prison of a house. And there were awesome sandwiches at the club too.

His uncle was a part owner of Club Henry, an elite tennis and pool club for California's upper crust. Quite secretive and exclusive, the club was host to a number of divergent parties and could procure anything any members taste might be inclined to. From imported snake blood wine, to orgies, to major business deals, Stiles was sure it went down here and that was part of the attraction for him, he loved a good mystery and his curiosity often got him in trouble. Trouble that his uncle swiftly got him out of and then promptly went back to pretending Stiles didn't exist.

Today's trouble was located about 10 minutes after Stiles sat down in the lounger with a gin and tonic and the worlds best prosciutto and swiss on rye. He had located himself in the prime shade-sun spot overlooking the tennis courts and at the edge of one of the smaller pools, complete with its own ecosystem of bored looking plastic ladies all trying to out do one another in Armani bikinis. Stiles was about to take his first glorious bite of the meaty sandwich when an odd interaction caught his eye. A older man in a grey suit was introducing a stunning dark haired man in white tennis gear to a woman pulling herself out of the pool to join them. Hands were shook and pleasantries all around. None of that was odd. What caught Stiles' attention was that immediately following this casual meet and great, the woman pulled the handsome tennis player into the ladies restroom off the back of the pool. Stiles glanced around to see if anyone else had caught it too, but everyone seemed absorbed in the time-consuming task of appearing perfect 100% of the time. The suit left without glancing back. Stiles sat up, elbows on his knees and pulled the little side table in front of him so he could devour his meal without looking away from the door to the ladies room across the pool. Stiles was definitely curious now.

The tennis guy walked out about 20 minutes later, and shockingly, distractible Stiles was still watching the door, although he had drifted off in his head about 40 times during the wait. Tennis dude slipped quietly to the stairs that led to the tennis courts (pretty clearly he was going to play tennis.. maybe??) and once he was out of sight the lady came out of the washroom too, looking.... well, looking like one very satisfied customer. She grabbed her wrap and bag from a lounge chair and walked down the opposite set of stairs heading to either the main club house or her Porsche. She seemed like the Porsche type Stiles thought.  
Twisting in his seat, Stiles peered through the bars of the railing and down into the courts. Yeah, there he was, hot tennis guy. Hot, objectively speaking of course. Stiles was straight but he could appreciate a good looking guy right? There was a lot to appreciate. This dudes muscles really filled out a polo shirt. Stiles pounded back the last of his drink, slammed the glass back down on the table and pushed himself up. He only smashed into a couple lounge chairs on the way to the stairs so all in all, pretty stealthy detective work, he thought to himself. On the case! Stiles Stilinsky, Private Eye. He grabbed a drink with a tiny umbrella off a passing waitresses' tray with a wink at her scowl and huff.

The tennis courts were state of the art. Totally wasted on the players here of course, most of whom were far from professional league. Stiles meandered around to the benches lining the courts and sat back, elbows on the back rest and legs stretched out. He turned his head to take a sip of his newly acquired drink and almost spit it out. It tasted like cough syrup. Actually it might very well be cough syrup, the staff here did procure basically anything for the clientele. Stiles set down and pushed the Codeine Colada far away from his person and looked around the courts. Pretty quickly he spotted his target wrapped around the back of a petite lady, ostensibly showing her the finer points of a proper forehand swing. This continued for a while and then they moved on to some volley practice and eventually the lesson wound down and tennis guy showed her out of the court all smiles and see you next times. She left him in the courts where he leisurely started grabbing rackets and balls and stuffing them into a sports bag. Interesting. So no side nookie for this client then. Was he a real tennis coach? Did he just have random sex with strangers upon first meeting? If it was possible for anyone, this would be the guy that could do it. Stiles almost fell forward trying to catch a closer look at his subject when he bent to get the last ball. Suddenly their eyes were meeting as tennis guy glanced up directly at him. Stiles scrambled back on the bench in surprise and then tried to feign nonchalance by looking away, but when he glanced back to see if it was working, the guy was striding towards him. His expression, as he approached Stiles, was not unpleasant or unwelcoming but it had an air of don't fuck with me that was different from the easy smiles he had been doling out to the ladies. Stiles felt his pulse quicken a little when the man was just a few feet away because, close up, he was very intimidating with all his muscles and stubble and gaze that never wavered off Stiles for a second.

“Hey” said Intimidation Man as he came to a stop in front of Stiles.

“Uhhh hey, hi” said Stiles, super eloquently.

“So. You've been watching me all afternoon. Are you interested in my services?”

“You, uh, I... no... what? What services.... exactly?”

The guy looked amused. “Tennis instruction. That is why you are here right?” He gestured around the courts, “To play tennis?”

“Oh yeah yeah, me and tennis we go way back. I love tennis. Could have gone pro probably. You know, if I had trained longer or like, at all, or whatever.” Where was that Purple Drank when you needed it. He reached around for the glass to have something casual to do in this awkward conversation but just ended up knocking it off the bench and watching it smash onto the ground, it's reddish liquid flowing out and creeping over to the tennis instructor's immaculate trainers.  
The guy stood his ground however and just looked even more amused, his mouth turning up at the corners. His eyes locked with Stiles' once again and he put his hand out.

“I'm Derek, the tennis coach here at the club, just started recently”

“Stiles” Stiles stood up and shook his hand firmly, regaining some of his composure. “resident pool-side people watcher” he coughed lightly into his fist in the silence that followed and then grew bold, looking up at Derek from the corner of his eye “I see the ladies are all very well taken care of under your tutelage.

“Ah, huh. Yeah that, well....” Derek squinted into the sun. “kinda part of the job description here.” He looked back at Stiles and caught him with his mouth agape.

“You mean you actually” Stiles made an aborted hand gesture that really didn't look anything like the sex he was trying to describe, “I was just guessing, I mean I had like no proof but now, holy shit man, are you an actual mhfgng” the rest of his sentence was muffled by Derek's huge hand over his mouth.

“Shhhhh, discretion yeah? You heard of it?” Derek said quietly, and incredibly close.

Stiles whole body was touching Derek's now. Derek had pressed in to pull his head into his other hand and cover his mouth. Now he was leaning in to half whisper, half growl reprimands into his ear. It was very surreal. What was even happening? Stiles wondered a little hysterically. The guy seemed like he was joking, but maybe he was going to kill him, chop him up and stuff tiny Stiles pieces into all of the tennis balls. Incongruous to that thought, the entire thing was also doing interesting things to Stiles' 20 year old libido. Not for the first time, Stiles wondered about the straitness of his sexuality, because he liked girls, but it always felt like there was something more, something he was missing. Something he was quite possibly locating now in this equal parts hot and terrifying interaction . The moment ended as abruptly as it began however when Derek pulled away. Stiles brushed off the heat he felt in the moment with a laugh and covered his nervousness with a friendly slap on Derek's shoulder.

“Of course man, my lips are sealed.” He was relieved to see that Derek didn't look mad. In fact, he just moved on and changed the subject.

“So.... how about we get a drink at the main house? I don't have to hide out in the kitchen with the other staff if I'm there with a member, and you seem to be short one....” Derek glanced down “strawberry daiquiri?”

“It was a grave error in judgment actually” Stiles mumbled, but he was already turning to walk in the direction of the club house. Derek jogged over to grab his bag and then fell into step beside Stiles. It already felt like they had been friends for a lot longer then 5 minutes. In fact, their easy banter back and forth continued through drinks and lunch and more drinks.

Derek excused himself finally in the early afternoon citing an appointment with a client. Stiles couldn't help getting in one last jab about Derek renting out his body by the hour but, instead of looking embarrassed or denying any part of it, Derek just turned back and winked on his way out the door. Stiles laughed and settled back into his seat, pulling out his phone and motioning for the check. His day had definitely been more interesting then the whole month proceeding it and Stiles felt like he had a new friend. Friends were hard to come by for Stiles, even though (or possibly especially because) he had status and wealth. Stiles really only had acquaintances in this town, many of whom had messaged him while he was busy with lunch. He scrolled though the possibilities until he settled on one. Hanging out at a club, bar or lounge was always a good way to kill some time, everyone he knew, knew he was always down to go out. He text his driver to come around the back and sauntered out the side door and through the bustling kitchen, nodding at two of his favourite waitresses gossiping on the counter and high fiveing Jeremy the chef on his way though. He also stole a couple of martini olives for the road.

 

Stiles found himself looking for Derek every time he came to the club. When he found him on the courts or coming out of the main house, Stiles always flagged him down, pressuring him into taking a break from work to chill with him on the patio. His mornings took on a little more pep, looking forward to hanging with Derek. The longer summer days were less oppressive this year and the heat a little less stifling. Instead the world had taken on new life. Hazy days were cocooned in laughter and talking over beers. Stiles truly enjoyed chillin with his new friend. It wasn't something he had been able to say about anyone he knew for a long time. Derek wasn't fake. Secretive, yes. But fake, no. He didn't hesitate to say what was on his mind and Stiles found that they agreed on a wide variety of topics from music to politics. Derek didn't say anything about where he came from and Stiles doesn't press it. All he really knew about Derek was that his last name was Hale, he grew up in Cali and he had always been athletic. But after a few short weeks, Stiles found himself opening up to Derek about his mom and dad and his station at his uncles house. If Derek was surprised or weirded out that Stiles was the nephew of Billionaire Garret Anderson, he didn't show it and he was a quiet and sensitive listener when Stiles unloaded about his parents' car crash. It was cathartic for Stiles, maybe this was why everyone was always going to therapy.

It was late in the day when it happened, one minute, Stiles was chatting about the in's and out's of this year's Battle of the Bands and the sun was setting as Derek sipped a beer and rested his arms on the deck railing and it was comfortable and energizing, the next minute, Stiles suddenly knew what the feeling deep in his gut was. He wanted Derek. On a not so platonic level. Derek looked at him inquisitively.

“Whats your deal?” he asked Stiles

Stiles shook his head to clear the stunning image Derek made in the golden light and realized that he trailed off a while ago and has just been standing in silence since. Staring at Derek.

“I think I might be gay. Or Bi. Or gay for men and straight for women. Yeah I'm officially confused over here. I... I think I want to.. uhhhmmm experiment? Branch out? Something? Maybe?” he pulled a shaking hand through his hair and uncomfortably looked up at Derek. “Wow that was an overshare out of nowhere. Sorry man, When you shared your sexual flexibility with me, you were so clear and confident and stuff and now I probably just look like a confused idiot. But I just, I've been having these feelings, I guess, for a while now and I just suddenly realized I should probably figure it out.”

Derek glanced away and Stiles' stomach dropped. Fuck, did he just screw up his only friendship? Oh god, it was probably super obvious that he said all that because he was lusting after the man directly in front of him. He had to explain to Derek that it wasn't like that! He had to..

Stiles' frantic thought train got derailed when Derek turned back to him and said quietly, “I could... offer my services. If you want to..... experiment”  
The last word was spoken so low, through Derek's clenched jaw, that Stiles barely heard it.

Stiles stood there stunned for another long moment, and searched Derek's face for signs of a joke or otherwise embarrassing prank. Derek just dropped his eyes to his shoes. And looked, for all intents and purposes, like a shy teen asking someone to prom. What the hell? This was not the look of a confident gigolo. Maybe this was part of Derek's act. It did seem less intimidating this way. All of this flashed through Stiles' mind as he desperately tried not to address the actual question at hand. Did he want to hire Derek for his crisis of sexuality? On one hand, Fuck Yes. On the other, he could potentially loose a friend in the process, plus wasn't it wrong or illegal or something? Like with most decisions in Stiles' life, his dick won the internal argument. Having made the choice, however, didn't make the ensuing conversation any easier.

“Are you, I mean, is that Ok?” Stiles groaned inwardly, _He just asked YOU, you dolt_.

“Yes. It's my job to treat the members....” Derek stopped and visibly collected himself and started again, regaining some of his suave confidence. “I want to. With you. However you want.” Derek leaned back down on the railing with one perfect arm and regarded Stiles with his grey-green eyes fresh and open and putting the ball squarely in Stiles' court.

“I want to, too. With you. However I, um, want” as Stiles spoke the last words his eyes trailed down Derek's body and he lingered over the bulge in the other man's shorts. How did he want? A dozen things marched through his brain, most of it pieced together from porn he'd seen. It all seemed daunting and a little scary, he admitted to himself. Full on sex with a dude seemed like a bit of a jump from nothing with a guy ever.

“I want to start slow Derek” Stiles said finally. “Can I blow you?” He opened his mouth again to let out a stream of sorry's and is-that-ok's and if-you-don't-mind's, but he snapped his jaw shut again and forced himself to shut up for once and not make everything in this awkward situation 10 times worse then it already was.

A smile was back on Derek's face, although the set of his shoulders did look a little tense. Odd, considering that he was supposed to do this kind of thing all the time. But his voice was as smooth and deep as black silk when he said, “Yeah Stiles, that sounds good”

Their eyes locked for another long second and then Derek turned and walked away, but he definitely looked back to make sure Stiles followed him.

They entered the luxurious bath house and Derek led Stiles to a private shower room that had an ocean of reflective glass in a huge blue and green mosaic on the wall. Stainless steel and stone decorated the rest of the room. Stiles didn't have much time to look around before he was being pressed firmly up onto a smooth black stone wall.

Derek's strong arms bracketed Stiles' head, and he rumbled low, “This is what you want? You want an expert to take care of you Stiles?” There was a heat in Derek's eyes and sort of a menacing, almost mean, challenging glint behind that.

It was definitely working for him. “Yeah” Stiles groaned, reaching out to put his hands on Derek's firm stomach. He daringly slid his hands lower to Derek's belt and, unsure where to go from there, stopped.

He glanced back up at Derek, who's eyes had darkened and breath was coming a little shorter now. Stiles opened his mouth to ask what to do, when all of a sudden Derek's lips were on his. Crushing his mouth with pressure and intent. He let Derek in and felt the heat of his tongue tangle with his own. This was different from the way a woman kissed, everything was different, and somehow more. Derek pressed his body into Stiles' and deepened the kiss. The line of hard heat all along Stiles' body had his head spinning. Derek brought a strong hand up into Stiles' hair and gripped, lighting up all the nerves in Stiles' brain until he felt he couldn't even think. Overwhelmed and disoriented, Stiles pulled back slowly until he could breathe again and found himself once again looking into the other man's eyes. Derek was looking at him like he was asking him a question, or searching for an answer. To what, Stiles couldn't begin to guess, so he just glanced back down at Derek's very apparent hard on in his pants and licked his lips. A sound, like a mix of frustration and lust emanated from Derek, and suddenly, Stiles was being moved around and pushed to his knees. Derek opened his fly by popping the buttons open with one hand until finally his cock sprang free. Stiles took a moment to adjust to the concept that yes, he was going to do this, and then he went for it.

At first, it was difficult. Derek's dick was huge and Stiles had a gag reflex, but after a few attempts, Stiles found a new angle and started using his hand to fill in the parts he couldn't reach . Never one to shy away from a challenge, Stiles maneuvered his body the right distance from Derek until the angle was just right and then he gave it his all. Sucking and fucking Derek into his hand and mouth at a steady rhythm. The continual thought stream in Stiles head had been quiet for the first few movements while Stiles concentrated on getting the hang of it, but now that he had a basic grasp (haha, grasp) on things, his mind started whirling again. Did he like this? Yeah sort of, It wasn't bad, it was kinda satisfying, the burn in his jaw was more of an ache then actual pain. It wasn't as weird as Stiles thought it might be. Just like playing his own dick really, but closer, so much closer. Derek tasted and smelled amazing. Like sea salt air and male and earthy forest. So yeah, Stiles liked it. But did Derek like it? Stiles risked a glance upwards through his lashes and the image before him punched him with a tidal wave of lust because, Derek.  
Derek looked so beautiful, so engaged in this with him. Looking down at Stiles like he was the best thing that ever happened to him, heat in his eyes and pupils blown black. Stomach muscles clenching and lower lip wet and hanging open slightly to pant out sharp, shallow breaths. Derek was loving it. And Stiles was doing this to him. Stiles was the one making this god of a man fall apart. Now Stiles wanted to do this forever. He felt so powerful and so turned on he had to adjust himself surreptitiously in his own pants where his dick was pressing hard against the seam. Derek groaned above him and tried to pull out of Stiles mouth. Stiles chased him with his tongue, not ready to let go of the heady feeling.

“Stiles” Derek grit out the warning, pulling out “I'm gonna come”

Stiles looked up again and found Derek's gaze, then made a decision. He wanted it all, go big or go home. Stiles kept his eyes on Derek as he slowly and purposefully moved forward again and caught Derek's swollen cock in his mouth and then pushed carefully all the way down, finding he could relax and open his throat a little more, bit by bit, and then suddenly he was all the way down to the base. Ignoring how his eyes teared up a little, Stiles focused all his attention on breathing through his nose and relaxing his jaw and he started to move again. Slow and steady. Derek's legs were shaking under his hands and he could almost make out some of the river of words, curses and possibly his name a couple times, coming from above him, and it all just made this so much hotter. Stiles felt like he wanted more, even though he was full to the brim, so he twisted his tongue and lapped up over the head of Derek's cock right before he went down as deep as he could again and that, that felt perfect because then Derek was coming, hot and heavy into Stiles mouth. And Stiles, high on lust and drunk on power swallowed it all like he couldn't get enough, lapping at Derek until he was completely spent. A few moments must have passed with Stiles still in a daze from the magnitude of what he had just done. Then Derek silently pulled him up from his knees and pressed him into the wall again, dived onto his neck like a man starved, kissing and marking him along the tight tendon from his shoulder to behind his ear .

He growled out nonsense like “Stiles... so hot.. so fucking... ung... what I'm gonna do to you....” Derek came back face to face “You don't even know what I could do to you”

The last part was spoken clearly with Derek holding Stiles head in his hands and looking directly at him before pushing their lips together. Hot and messy and confusing, Stiles' head was spinning and it felt awesome. Just when Stiles thought he might spontaneously combust from need, Derek finally put his hand down over Stiles' dick. Stiles could have come right there and then if Derek had moved at all. But Derek knew what he was doing, and what he was doing was apparently teasing the fuck out of Stiles. Derek's hand remained completely still, and Stiles' head rolled back on the rock wall as he let out a moan that sounded, at once, frustrated and desperate. Derek chuckled. He fucking laughed!

Stiles opened his mouth to tell him to get the fuck on with it already but all that came out when their locked eyes again was “... please Derek”.

That seemed to do the trick however because Derek's entire expression changed. His eyebrows went from high and amused to low and dangerous and his expression looked sharp and deadly in the low light. Stiles had that fear mixed with intense arousal feeling he seemed to get a lot around Derek. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that he really didn't know much about Derek at all, Derek could be actually dangerous. Another voice told that voice to shut up and then all the voices in Stiles' head shut the hell up because that's when Derek started to move.  
Stiles was not proud to admit, that by the time Derek's hand went from resting over the bulge in his pants to ripping open his belt and sinking in to grab Stiles' unbearably hard cock, he nearly blacked out. Derek stroked him once, firmly along Stiles' length then stopped and the entire world compressed to one point of pleasure and the earth stopped moving around him. He needed release so desperately but the moment hung right out of reach. All other sounds and colours became dull and lifeless compared to Derek and his breath on Stiles' face, his body touching his in little points of fire and his eyes, green and grey and black, looking at him like nothing else mattered in the slightest. Stiles was right at the edge when Derek brushed the thumb of his other hand slowly along Stiles mouth, dragging his lip open. Stiles was completely mesmerized when Derek uttered only one word.

“Come."

It was a command, clear and firm and Stiles was unable to do anything but obey, spilling out onto Derek's fist over and over while Derek had him pinned still with his gaze. It was the most intoxicating moment of Stiles' life. After he came down, he gradually collapsed against the wall behind him, head thunking on the stone, Derek leaned back beside him. Stiles had no idea what happened next and right now he didn't care. He just put his head down on Derek's shoulder and breathed. The only sounds were the twin echos of their heavy breathing, bouncing off the rock walls.

A noise outside startled them out of their afterglow and both men straightened quickly, buttoning up and smoothing out their clothes while sharing a chagrinned glance and smirk. Stiles felt a little like he was floating and he fully blames that on what he said next.

“soooo, do I like, tip you or something, cuz that was phenomenal man” He knew the moment it was out of his mouth that he had fucked up. Why oh why couldn't he ever think before speaking?

Derek had his back to him, fixing his hair in the mirror, but Stiles did not miss the expression that crossed his face in the reflection. First, Derek's face was completely blank. Hurt maybe? No probably offended. Definitely offended, morphing quickly into anger. His eyes flashed into a glare as he turned to face Stiles and he could almost hear Derek's jaw crack as it tensed into a ridged, albeit model worthy, line and his eyebrows did that thing where they lower into something more intimidating then anyone who played tennis should ever be able to achieve. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Derek moved quickly, brushed past him and out the door as if he couldn't get away fast enough.

Stiles was suddenly very alone, standing in the middle of a cold room, with his pants still not completely done up. Not only was he not floating anymore, he felt as though the floor beneath him had liquified and he was quietly disappearing underground. Oh god. What he had said was rude, so rude. Why had he said that? Stiles stood there for what felt like forever (but was probably only half a minute) rooted to the floor, but he snapped out of his self loathing and forced his limbs to cooperate long enough to run out the door.

He looked wildly around for signs of Derek's angry back disappearing. Shockingly though, Derek was not far and not retreating. His angry, but still very sexy, back was stretched long as he rested his elbows and bowed his head over the deck railing. The railing back where this whole thing started. Stiles approached cautiously, not sure what this defensive looking position meant as far as Derek's mood. When Stiles touched Derek's shoulder, Derek's head popped up, as if surprised that Stiles had followed him the few feet he went. His expression was guarded as he looked at Stiles, waiting.

“I'm sorry” blurted Stiles “I totally shouldn't have said that, I would never demean you or what you do on purpose. I just have this thing sometimes where words come out and I... I'm an idiot, please be my friend still. You are the coolest guy here and everyone else sucks and you are the only person I can talk to. I never should have asked you to do what you did, even if it was awesome. So much awesome really. But that doesn't matter now because I will be the best friend you've ever had from this point forward. Seriously, I will never, ever put you in that position again or even, even look at you in that way. Just please dude, say something?”

“That's what you want? To be friends?” Derek spit out the word like it was poisoned. “After what we did, how we... after that?” He gestured violently to the shower rooms behind them “You want to be my friend?”

“Yes! All the yes. I know I screwed up a tiny bit but you will totally get used to that from me. That's part of the Stiles package. You'll get used to it over our long and bromantic friendship that we are going to have. Dude! You seriously can't be mad forever over one huge mistake I made.”

“Mistake” Derek repeated, voice cold.

“Mistake” Nodded Stiles emphatically, searching Derek's face with pleading eyes.

Something in Derek melted a fraction under his gaze and then Derek's shoulders slumped and he sighed out.

“It's ok Stiles. It was my mistake. I should have known better then to try to... to mix business and pleasure.” Derek's mouth twisted a little as if speaking gave him displeasure and the words seemed resigned and maybe a touch off, but Stiles wasn't about to be picky over semantics. He was just happy that this was over and they could start putting it behind them right away. He simultaneously signalled the waiter and flung the other arm around Derek's shoulders. This was going to take a lot of tequila, and food, and strippers and possibly Vegas, but it was going to be ok. He would make sure it was ok. Derek was too important to loose and if there was one thing Stiles knew he was good at, it was making sure the people around him were having a good time. He dug in his pocket for his phone. There were jets that needed fuelling and people who needed to get ready because this night was going to be Derek's favourite night. It was going to be so great that it would clear out all thoughts of the day proceeding it.

To be honest, Stiles needed this night to help him deal with what happened too, but not because he wanted to forget. He didn't think this was something he would ever forget, but he could damn well figure out how to pretend to. For Derek.

 

Three weeks after the day they would always refer to as Vegas and never refer to as the day Stiles lost his gay virginity, Stiles jauntily ran up the marble stairs to the main entrance of the Club, casually dressed in chinos, white Chuck Taylor's and a faded blue polo. He snagged a newspaper off the table as he entered the building, looking forward to picking apart today's news with Derek. Their friendship had been strong as ever over the last few weeks, and Stiles was in a good mood every day to show for it.

He grinned at the staff he knew and plotted his lunch from the menu permanently seared into his mind. He was just wondering if Derek would share the Asian Tuna Platter with him when he rounded the corner and literally bumped into a lady rounding it the other way. She was young, and hot and in a sinfully tight red dress and an incredibly large black sun hat. And the contents of her purse was all over the ground. Stiles apologized profusely as he helped her pick up her lipstick and wallet and a dozen other things. Seriously how much stuff did girls carry around all the time? She graciously accepted his apology but brushed off his offer of a drink to make it up to her. Listen, he wasn't trying to get a date out of it, just being a good guy OK? Ok maybe he wasn't completely putting the dating idea off the table if that were in the cards... but clearly she had other places to be and with a sweet smile and quick wave off of Stiles continued “sorry's”, she sashayed off in a cloud of expensive perfume. Stiles was definitely just watching her walk away because he was concerned for her well being, not because that dress was illegally tight. And that's the story of how Stiles saw a smoking hot babe walk into the ladies room followed very shortly thereafter buy none other then smoking hot Derek, coming from a different direction and not glancing around at all (because he walked everywhere like he owned the place) and therefor not seeing Stiles standing there with his eyes wide and newspaper dangling limp from his hand.

Right, of course this was still happening. Why on earth wouldn't it be? This was Derek's gig here and this particular gig was probably going to be of the earth shattering amazing variety for his best friend. Derek liked girls just as well as boys from his own admission and this girl looked eager and sexy and all sorts of fun. So Stiles should just go for lunch and then congratulate his buddy over drinks later and not stand there thinking about it any longer like a creeper and definitely not feel like he is jealous of the girl in the situation because he stopped thinking about Derek like that and he is going to walk away now. Stiles made it too the front door before he realized that he had just back-tracked on autopilot. But once he got there, he decided to just leave anyways because when he opened the door, he saw his driver still waiting out front in the town car, typing something on his phone. And then it seemed easier to just keep on his trajectory and fully retrace his steps and get right back in the backseat and maybe restart this day a little bit later.

After driving aimlessly around the city for a while, Stiles told his longtime personal driver, Isaac, to head to the airport. While they battled midday L.A. traffic to get there, Isaac grumbling about it under his breath as always, Stiles fingers flew over his phone's keyboard. It would be almost 9pm in Paris and Lydia would be getting ready to go out. If he caught the next flight out, he calculated that he could make it to her penthouse in Saint Germain-des-Prés by the time she woke up in the late morning tomorow. Her perfect-every-time cappuccino, luxurious view of the River Seine and scathing analysis of Stiles' life was exactly what he needed.

 

By the time the plane was making it's decent into Paris' Charles de Gaulle Airport, Stiles was half cut on Mimosas and languidly reading the the newspaper (that he for some reason still had) in the comfort of first class. It wasn't the same without Derek's dry understated humour that Stiles could count on when ever he went on a rant about the political state of the world. Tossing the paper aside, Stiles disembarked with only a little sway when standing up. He counted that a win. He didn't have a carry-on, just his wallet and passport in his sports coat. He tried never to leave home without at least 3 credit cards and his passport because, like a boy scout, it's always good to be prepared. He would have to hit up a store to grab a change of clothes. Lydia would love that.

Lydia had set up a limo to pick him up and deliver him to her place, and the driver, complete with a sharp black hat, was in the baggage claim area holding a sign with, was that?... yeah that was his whole first name on there. Ha ha, very funny Lydia. He rolled his eyes and signalled the driver to lead him to the car. They pulled up not 40 minutes later and Stiles tipped the guy before jumping out of the sleek black limo and grinning at the door man in front of Lydia's apartment.

“Christophe, my man! Comment vas-tu?” he gave the lithe (but deceptively strong) man in livery a slap on the back as Christophe glowered at him and opened the door. “Keep smiling Christophe.” Stiles quipped as he walked through.

One day, he was definitely going to make that dude laugh. He had gotten close one night at an after party held in Lydia's massive private lobby by describing everyone at the party in poppas detail and a terrible french accent. He made a mental note to grab Christophe's favourite whisky next time he was out and slip the man a bottle. Dude deserved it just for having to deal with Lydia on a daily basis.

He had known Lydia since prep school. You could say Lydia was his oldest friend. At one point Stiles was sure he would marry the girl and live happily ever after, but when push came to shove, Lydia was never right for Stiles. The balance of power was skewed pretty heavily in her direction when it came to them as a couple and Stiles was never very interested in taking over the world... and Lydia? well Lydia was built for world domination. But it was pretty easy to forget all that when she opened her door, long red hair all over the place and half pinned up by her silk sleep mask, and a negligee that left little to the imagination. Lydia caught him staring and haughtily flicked his chin.

“Eyes up here mister” She turned with a flourish and stalked off grabbing a silk robe on her way over to the panel that controlled the blinds. The sun started to stream in as the curtains opened and Stiles shaded his eyes with his hand until his vision adjusted, then he joined Lydia in the kitchen to sit at the island and watch her make the best coffee in the actual world. The aroma filled the air and Stiles took the deepest breath he had in weeks. Maybe he and Lydia hadn't worked out romantically, but Stiles was always going to feel like she was part of his family, maybe his only family really.

“Lydia” Stiles began in a old western voice “I done fucked up again”

“What did you do this time Stiles?” She sighed “You didn't get high and start smashing your uncles ming vase collection again did you” She tapped down a lever on the cappuccino machine.

“No, I.. Listen, that made a lot of sense at the time and those vases are stupid.” Stiles defended “Vases are supposed to be vessels for flowers not monuments of gathered dust and pretentiousness.”

“It made 'sense'” Lydia dipped her long elegant nails into air quotes “because you were on three caps of molly and those vases have a rich and important cultural history which you would know if you had paid more attention in any of your university classes”

“I wasn't an art history major Lydia” They bantered back and forth without heat. This argument, in any of its many variations, had played out between them numerous times.

“No, you were a exceptionally reluctant business major, squandering your talent all because you have a chip on your shoulder about your uncles business practices”

“Well he might not be a crook Lydia, but you know as well as I that he plays loopholes like a Spanish guitar and there's a mighty big grey area in his moral map”

“Be that as it may Stiles, I don't see you taking the reigns and being the change” Lydia challenged.

Stiles shook his head “That life is not for me Lyds”

“Yeah but the life style is, isn't it? What do you think payed for your ticket here pumpkin?”

Lydia was harsh, but she had a point. She always had a point. A sharp, pointy point.  Something like the screw up he felt like must have shown in his face because Lydia didn't say anything more on the subject, just came over and snuggled Stiles' shoulder and put a frothy cup in front of him.

“So what's got you all worked up this time hun?” she mothered, smoothing down his hair. That was Lydia giving him an out, and Stiles gratefully took it.

“I blew my tennis instructor” he lamented dramatically.

Lydia laughed her giggly laugh and Stiles chalked a quick point in the “make Lydia laugh” score board in his head.

“Stiles” she said still laughing “I told you to stop spending all your time at that club. You are turning into desperate housewife”

“Here's the thing though. That was my first time with a dude. And it was awesome, until it was not awesome because I ruined everything and oh yeah, he's sort of, kind of, a prostitute.”

Lydia laughed even longer at that. “Oh wow this gets better and better. So he is hot I presume”

“Scorching”

“And good at what he does?”

“Expert”

“So I fail to see the problem here Stiles. What did you screw up? Other than him I suppose” She tittered at her own joke and Stiles gave her an eye roll with a reluctant smirk.

“I didn't screw him Lydia, I blew him. And I fucked up because I totally offended him afterwards and then I told him I wouldn't use his body like that again but it turns out that I can't forget his body and its starting to affect my life a little and now I feel like I can't even talk to him and he's my only friend.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Lydia scowled

“Lydia, you will always be the light of my life, but you know what I mean, I mean friend like: share stuff and hang out and want to spend every day with and want the know everything about them and want to be their favourite person and not want them to sleep with stupid sexy women instead of being with you and oh my god I'm in love with Derek”

“Ah, that's why you're really here. This isn't a damage control visit at all. This is a love epiphany party! My favourite” She squealed, jumped and clapped her hands. The trifecta of girl excitement.

“No no no no. No. This is not a good thing. This is a terrible thing. I am victim to not one, but two cliches. Falling for my best friend and falling for my hooker.” Stiles stood up and started pacing around the room. “This is the epitome of unrequited love Lydia. He couldn't have been more regretful of our, uh, experience. You didn't see his face afterwards.” Stiles flung himself on Lydia's pure white Sunpan Bugatti sofa and slumped down in defeat.

“Stiles” Lydia said, exasperated “You always do this. You work yourself up over someone and build it up in your mind to such an extent that you forget to even ask the person you're interested in whether or not they like you back”

“Is that what happened with us?” Stiles asked quietly.

“No. You know that's not... You know that was different.” Lydia replied gently. She straightened up and put on her strict voice again “No wallowing allowed ok? You flew all the way over here to get my help and now you are going to do exactly what I say, understood?”  Stiles glanced at her warily but he knew he was going to end up doing what she said anyways, so he didn't bother saying anything to contradict her.

“First, we are going to brunch. Then, we need to shop, and get you...” She paused to finger his shirt with distain “...something to wear.”

“Hey” Stiles protested. “This is Gucci.”

Lydia waved him off “And then we are going out, to get you out of your head. You need a dose of French culture to wash all the repressed American off you.”

“I happen to like being a repressed American thank you very..”

Lydia cut him off with another hand gesture. “And after you sleep off your hangover, you're getting back on a plane and going to find this guy who's got you all riled up and you are going to ask him, point blank: Date me? Yes or No.” Lydia finished her tirade with the smug look she got when she solved an equation before the rest of the class.

Stiles sighed, making a show of looking reluctantly resigned, but on the inside, he was just relieved that someone else was taking the reigns of this whole -love- thing out of his hands.

 

They went shopping. Oh did they go shopping. If there was one thing Lydia excelled at more then physics, it was abusing her black card. The light was low by the time they were rapping up their day. Lydia's driver had attended to their bags as they piled up and had run trips to the car when they accumulated to Everest heights, so they only had a few bags, Lydia from Channel and Styles from Valentino. He had finally agreed to letting Lydia pick out a dark blue blazer, black denim jeans and a white T to hit the town in tonight.  
They were heading back to the car, passing Cartier when Lydia pulled on Styles arm

“I need to pop in here for a minute”

“Lydia, we own the entire Champs Elysées at this point- Oh.... ok here we go then I guess” Lydia of course had ignored him and pulled him in by his shirt sleeve, already cooing over the display nearest the door. Resigned, once again, to the fate that was Hurricane Lydia, Stiles wandered around the shop while she interrogated the (most likely woefully under-prepared) sales lady.

There was a stately staircase with a red runner in the very middle of the store, Stiles ran his long fingers over the intricacies of the railing and pondered exploring the darker corners of the upper level, but the security guards speckling the area looked as though they might make a big deal about it so Stiles turned that notion down in flavor of ducking behind the staircase and checking out the lesser seen displays there.  
The well lit glass cases here held a variety of mens watches. Stiles had watches of course, he glanced down at his own Rolex and contemplated replacing it but it just didn't seem worth the effort. He hadn't spent much time picking out the one he had on to be honest. He had just bought it because it was expected that he wear a watch of a certain caliber, and not due to any great love of it on his part. He looked over at Lydia, still near the front of the store, and found her trying on jewellery and talking to a whole group of sales people now. Most likely she was schooling them in the history of Cartier or the chemical composition of gold by now.  
Stiles turned his gaze back down. His eye kept catching on one particular model in the case. It had a dark leather band that seamlessly blended into steal. The metal gave way to a rose gold and chocolate brown face with the traditional Roman numerals. The watch made him think of dark and brooding men with wicked smiles and deadly grace. It made him think of Derek Hale.  
His hand paused over top of the case and his body froze with the full realization. He was so gone on this guy. A guy. A guy he barely knew anything about if he was still being completely honest with himself. His thought train was interrupted by one of the only sales people not surrounding Lydia, clearing his throat next to him.

“Ah the Calibre de Cartier model, excellent choice” said the thin, besuited man beside him “Can I interest you in trying one on monsieur?”

“Yeah sure” Stiles said, surprising himself “That one.”

The man got out his key, which was on a metal leash attached to his body somewhere under the suit. And with a sort of hilarious flourish, he and opened the case, withdrawing the watch Stiles had been looking at.  
Up close, the watch was rich in color, both powerful and luxurious with just the right amount of cold hard metal. The weight was perfect in Stiles' hand and for some reason that he could not, or would not, explain to himself, he turned to the sales man and said “I'll take it.”

The man started a little, eyes widening and the speed of the decision probably, but to his credit (and probably due to extensive training in high end sales) he recovered quickly and smooth as butter, whisked the watch out of Stiles' hand and marched off to the counter

“This way if you please monsieur.”

Stiles followed him and put down his credit card when the man rang him up. He took the bag with nothing but a slight smile and nod of the head, sort of feeling numb, and then headed outside into the dark Paris air to wait for Lydia. Her driver was also waiting outside, killing the end of a smoke. They didn't wait long. Lydia came out and started chatting excitedly to Stiles about the Trinity bracelet she had acquired and by the time they got to the car and opened a mini bottle of champagne to share on the drive home, he had put the watch and its possible intended recipient out of his mind. Mostly.

 

Stiles set out for home the following day with a hangover and a mission. Not that he was going to follow Lydia's orders to the letter and walk up to Derek with a romantic ultimatum. No, that wasn't how Stiles was going to play this. He needed a long game. He needed intel. One airport wait and a transatlantic flight later, he had used his powers of google-fu and located Derek's home address and the schools he had attended amidst other random photos and social media profiles. Then, he almost glossed right over it, but something made him stop on an obscure newspaper article from 12 years ago. He clicked on it. Stile's stomach sank as he read the caption: Family home burned to the ground in Southwest California, 6 dead, 2 survivors. His finger shook a little as he scrolled down. It was horrible. And it was definitely Derek's family. He even picked out young Derek in the family photo at the bottom. He scrolled back to the top, took a deep breath, and read the article in its entirety.

Stiles got back in the car at LAX and breathed a sigh of relief to be State side again. Nothing like home really. Issac was driving as usual, and had arrived bearing medicine in the form of hair of the dog and a bottle of Advil, bless the man's soul.

“Hey man” he greeted Isaac, patting his shoulder in thanks, “Let's go to Ace tonight”.

The Ace was a hotel downtown and the rooftop bar upstairs never failed to turn up people Stiles knew. Isaac nodded and set off for downtown. Stiles sipped his drink and stretched his legs out in the back of car, the Tesla this time. He had about a 45 minute ride ahead. He glanced out the window at the dark and the headlights of the cars going the other direction. It was almost 2AM here but Stiles was wide awake and buzzing with a strange electricity. He had always been curious, too curious. But this seemed closer, more important, this mystery shrouding Derek.

The news article had been unsettling to say the least, the fire had not been accidental, that much was sure. A deeper look and a phone call to a contact he had in the LAPD had proved that the arsonist was never caught. A little prying (Stiles could be persuasive when he tried), and Stiles had dragged out a couple more very interesting tidbits from the police report.

Number one: Garrison Hale, Derek's late father, had been the CEO of Lycan Corp., a massive international manufacturing company which was now owned by Stiles' Uncle in one of his lesser known subsidiary holdings.

Number two: The arson was done so professionally, it was suspected that it was a hit job. Fire investigators almost always find some evidence that arsonists left behind and here, there was nothing. Not one shred of DNA or fingerprint or receipt trail. Nothing, nada, zip. So the case had been shelved. The investigation was in cold case files and had been for years.

Stiles turned all this information over in his mind, staring down at the almost empty glass and rotating it in his hands for something to fidget with. A thought, a dark suspicion, was growing. He considered putting it out of his head, not rocking the boat, but his curiosity, as always, won over. No matter the consequences of looking into this, he thought, I have to know. Putting down the glass he got out his phone again and logged into the company site. He wasn't sure if they knew he had the password, they probably didn't care if they did. After all, he pretty much was the company. The family business was what supported his lifestyle, hell, his whole life, at the end of the day. Why on earth would Stiles do anything to disrupt that?

The deal, for his uncle's company to take over the Hale company, was in negotiations the same year as the fire. The deal closed shorty after the death of the CEO, Garrison Hale. It closed after the role of CEO, along with owner and primary shareholder, were all passed down to one Derek Hale, who was just a kid at the time, totally unprepared and certainly reeling from the death of almost his entire family. The transfer of company ownership at the time would have been dealt with by the lawyers handling it. It probably required only a signature from Derek. And then what? Stiles wondered. What happened after that? Only one person could answer these questions. Stiles made a split decision, pulling up the address he had discovered for Derek on his phone. He knew it was quickly approaching stalker territory, but he gave the numbers to his driver anyhow and they altered course. He told himself that it was just a friendly visit, in the middle of the night, without any warning, to ask about his dead family and also possibly profess his undying love. What could possibly go wrong with this plan?

When they pulled up slowly outside the address of Derek's place, Stiles had a wave of nausea, most likely hangover related and maybe, possibly nerves adjacent. Isaac had parked across the street from the six story apartment building and Stiles sat silently, regarding it out of tinted windows. The apartments themselves were above a bustling bar with a vine covered patio and twinkling little white lanterns swaying to the alt-rock music pouring out from inside. Stiles turned his gaze higher, tilting his neck. Derek was apartment 304. Counting up, he could see that the entire 3rd floor was dark. No one home. Or everyone was sleeping, Stiles reminded himself. Not everyone was a party animal.

He glanced down at the phone in his hand and scrolled through his contact list. Obviously he could call Derek. But what would he say? "Hi, I'm creepily outside your place, want to meet up so I can talk to you about a variety of serious things face to face?” Nope. Not happening. God he needed a drink. He cast his eye longingly towards the bar. Maybe I'll just go in, he thought, it's got to be a bar that Derek goes to, and I can run into him and casually ask him about his life and/or work my way into his life. Stiles scrubbed at his face with his hands _._

 _Why are you at this bar Stiles? -- Oh no reason, I was just passing through. You see, on my way to stalking you, I got thirsty._  

Fuck. Stiles let out a deep breath as he dropped his hands to his sides and leaned back into the leather seat. He was suddenly exhausted.

“Just take me home Isaac” he said, lowly to his driver. He got a simple nod in his direction and they pulled away from the curb into the dark night.

 

The next day dawned in a more positive light. Stiles had a bounce in his step as he grabbed an apple from the crystal bowl by the door and let himself out into the California sunshine, nice and early at the crack of 11 am. Thumbing through his phone again, he found who he was looking for.  
“Boyd!” He chattered brightly at the mumble from the other end.

“Dude, I need a favour, get your ass outta bed and meet me for lunch. I'll text you the address. Drinks are on me.”

He hung up before Boyd could protest and texted him Derek's building number. As an afterthought, he shared a contact too. Erica's number. He knew Boyd pined after Erica from afar, and sometimes Boyd needed a little incentive to do Stiles a solid. It took only 15 minutes to get back to the lively little bar, and only 30 minutes for Boyd to show. Then 180 minutes of waiting. Not lurking, waiting. There's totally a difference.

 

“We have been here for 3 hours Stiles” Boyd pointed out, taking another sip of his beer. “Have you found your 'stakeout target' yet?”

The look he gave Stiles was pointedly dry, and there were definite quotes around 'stakeout target', which, fair enough, but Stiles refused to be cowed.

“Boyd my man, it's a beautiful day and we are simply people watching. People watching for one person in particular maybe yes, but people watching non the less. Besides, I've know Erica since prep and I can give you tips on how to woo yourself into those skin tight leather pants.”

Boyd looked at him with no expression and Stiles was a little worried he was going to get up and leave, but after a moment, all he did was take the last sip of his beer and signal for another one. Stiles relaxed, Boyd was staying.

“I don't think it's possible to woo yourself anywhere.” Boyd said with a small smile.

“The act of wooing is ambiguous. It can take many forms.” Stiles bullshitted happily.

He could talk for as long as it took for Derek to either come to, or leave his apartment, and he could see the main entrance and entire sidewalk from his spot on the patio. This was the best plan ever.

Shortly thereafter Stiles saw him. Derek looked incredible. So unbelievably different from his clean cut look at the club. His leather jacket stretched tight against his broad shoulders and a well worn v-neck did nothing to hide his impressive chest. His dark jeans were almost, but not quite, painted on and his scuffed motorcycle boots seemed to indicate that Derek didn't spend much time taking prisoners. Derek turned his head to glance down the street before crossing to their side, and that's when Stiles saw the aviators, flashing in the sun and drawing light to Derek's face. Jesus on a stick. Why the fuck were those sunglasses even legal for someone that looked like Derek? It was a public safety hazard. People could freeze to death from ripping their clothes off too fast. Stiles balled his hands into fists to make sure they weren't spontaneously removing any of his own clothes. But beyond the obvious hotness, now that Stiles was looking for it, he could see other things too. Things like the tightness in his shoulders, the guarded stance of his body, and the vague, almost too easy smile that covered the pain underneath. In fact now that Stiles was really looking, Derek looked like a man haunted. The look he had always quantified as a calculated 'brooding bad boy' persona was suddenly all too real. There was a tension set to explode under his devilish good looks. It all made Stiles' heart beat a little too hard.

Derek was at the front door and pulling out his keys, before Stiles snapped out it and remembered what the fuck he was doing here.

“Derek” he called, trying to sound casual and missing by a very enthusiastic mile.

Derek turned at the sound of his name and his eyes found Stiles holding up his beer in greeting from the bar patio. Derek stood there for a second, looking a little stunned, and then broke into an easy, if slightly confused smile, and walked over to where Stiles and Boyd were sitting.

“Stiles, what are you doing here?” Derek asked, nodding at Boyd who nodded back concluding an interaction Stiles assumed was the strong-silent-type-secret-society code for 'Hi, nice to meet you'.

“Having a beer with my buddy Boyd. What are you doing here?” Stiles asked back. He squinted into the afternoon sun up at Derek and hoped like hell that he bought the lie.

“I live here” Derek gestured above them.

“No way.” Stiles was a lying machine. “Well, better come have a drink with us then." Boyd snorted at that, and Stiles glared at him. Derek looked confused again.

“I gotta head out actually” Boyd drawled, getting out of his chair. He rolled his eyes at Stiles and nodded again at Derek.

“Thanks for coming out Boyd, say hi to Erica for me” Stiles called out to his disappearing back. He turned back to Derek. “Come on man, sit down, you're blocking my rays dude.” Stiles gestured to the empty seat.

Derek paused for a moment, bouncing the keys in his hand, before tucking them back in his jacket pocket and vaulting over the short patio railing.  
“I have time for a drink or two” he said flashing his 1000 watt smile at Stiles and making him want to melt all over the place like a freaking damsel in a trashy novel. Stiles ran a hand through his hair to distract himself from how much of an idiot he was and belatedly realized that he was smiling like a goon.

“I may have a little bit of a head start on the brews here buddy” he covered “you're gonna need to play catch up”.

“Oh I think I can catch up to you” Derek raised an eyebrow and somehow made it sound both like a come on and a challenge.

“We'll see about that. Lets not forget who outdrank who in Vegas”They are interrupted by the arrival of the waitress who was very clearly already smitten with Derek and all of his Derekness.

“Derek” she cooed (yes cooed), proving Stiles point “What can I get you today?”

“Yeah Derek,” Stiles deadpanned. “What do you want, anything at all”

The waitress, Allison or Annie or something like that, flushed a little when she turned to Stiles. “And can I get you a refill sir?” she asked politely, to her credit still functioning at her job even when Derek's pheromones were obviously the siren call to all fertile women in a 100 foot radius.

“Yeah I'll have a jack and coke” Stiles attempted to squash down his ridiculous jealousy, after all it wasn't her fault that Derek was perfect.  
Derek placed his order, adding in some food without looking at the menu.

While they waited on their drinks, Stiles remembered for the first time why he set all this up. He swallowed hard and thought about switching to water, he should probably be more sober for this. Or maybe more drunk. They talked about the game that was on for a while, casual conversation speckled by several of the other staff that passed by saying a quick hi to Derek. He was clearly a regular here. Stiles waited until Derek had finished his first drink before he took a deep breath and just asked.

“So, whats your story man?” Stiles tried for casual

Derek glanced up a little sharply. “what do you mean?” Derek also sounded a little like he was reaching for the ever elusive casual in his tone.

“I mean, you look kinda different at the club and I guess I didn't really picture you living here, I actually don't know what I pictured.”

Derek put down his glass and looked out into the street for a second before answering. 

“I own this building.”

Stiles had prepared for multiple variations in Derek's reply. This wasn't any of them. 

“The whole thing?” Stiles gestured around “Like the restaurant and the apartments?”

“Yeah, it's one of a couple buildings I bought after my parents died.”

Stiles felt like shit “Your parents died?” It felt flat even to his own ears and he hung his head. He knew he had blown it.

Derek turned his full gaze back onto Stiles and his eyes narrowed. “But you already knew that, didn't you Stiles? Why don't you tell me why you're really here?”

“I just came because I found out a bunch of stuff about you and I wanted to know your side. I wanted to be here for you like you were for me when I shared my past. We're friends aren't we Derek?” Stiles pleaded.

“Here we go again with the friend thing. We're not friends Stiles.”  Well that hurt.

“Is it because of my Uncle?”

“No, its... No.” Derek looked frustrated “You're Uncle has nothing to do with this.”

“I think he has everything to do with this actually. I looked it up Derek. I know that he bought your family's company from you after the fire”

“Yeah well did you know he started that fire?” There it was.

“I don't want to believe that Derek, but yeah, I've had my suspicions. I saw the police file”

“Well theres no proof” He spat “I've looked, that's why I took that job at the Club in the first place, they all cover their tracks like one big incestuous family. No one knows anything and no one's saying anything.”

“You.... thats why you got close to me. You wanted to use me to further your.. your.. one man revenge mission” Stiles felt the hurt now like a physical wound.

“Not revenge, justice. Justice for my family, cant you understand that?” Derek was yelling, people were looking at them now “and yeah that was why I got close to you, I knew who you were. But.....”

“But what?”

Derek was standing and Stiles felt himself standing up too, emotion burning close to the surface.

Derek paused, “It doesn't matter” and with that, Derek picked up his jacket and left. He had reached his apartment entrance when Stiles spoke up, tired of all the questions in his head.

“Derek. Fucking, what? Just fucking tell me. What doesn't matter?”

Derek held the door open for himself and stopped, shoulders tense and head low. He turned slowly back to face Stiles' direction.

“It doesn't matter that I fell for you.” Derek gave Stiles one last hard look and then disappeared into the building, the door shutting behind him.

Stiles stood, in the middle of the patio, Derek's patio he reminded himself, with his mouth open and rooted to the ground. This seemed to be the position that Derek liked to leave Stiles in the most. As ambient sound returned to him, he noticed all the patrons and staff whispering and looking his way and out of self preservation alone, he managed to move. Dropped a few hundreds on the table and stepped over the railing to the sidewalk and just started walking down the street. Not caring where, just needing to get away.

Stiles kept walking, through the quiet neighbourhood, that had turned to houses with yards about 6 blocks away from Derek's bar. He walked and turned over the new information in his mind. Derek liked him. Derek had fallen for him. Derek was also trying to bring down his uncle for murder. A murder he wasn't sure if his uncle had committed or not. And Derek wanted him. Or maybe he had wanted him but now was totally turned off by his prying and stalking and lying. He reviewed interactions between the two of them like short scenes in a movie. They all took on a totally new meaning now. Meeting Derek had been orchestrated. Sex with Derek had meant something to both of them even if Stile's had been in denial and Derek had been hiding his feelings. A thought struck Stiles. Was Derek even a prostitute? No, of course he wasn't, he owned buildings and businesses. He was gathering intel. Maybe those women worked for his uncle. He didn't doubt it. So many people worked for his Uncle. But Derek would never find the proof he was looking for through them. If proof existed, it would be carefully hidden in the company database. So deep, only certain individuals would be privy. Certain individuals like family. Stiles knew what he had to do and he would do it to get the truth from his uncles company. But first, there was the matter of being totally smitten with a particularly dark and broody man to deal with. He turned around and headed back to Derek's apartment.

Derek buzzed him in without comment at Stiles' “Hey Derek” and was waiting with crossed arms at the open door of his flat when Stiles got off the elevator. Stiles nodded his head towards the inside of Derek's place when he didn't move out of the way immediately. Derek slowly backed out of the way and Stiles stepped inside.  
The apartment was an open plan, all understated wood and glass. Here and there were books, a conch shell and a striped coffee cup. Sheer white curtains blew lightly in at the breeze. It looked like the home Stiles hadn't had in a very long time.

“Good, there's room for my desk over there.” Stiles was going with bold now. Why fuck around.

“What?” Derek practically growled.

“Well if we are going to be together then I'm going to have to burn a few bridges in my old life and I'm gonna need a place to stay”

“What are you playing at Stiles?”

Stiles turned and took a deep breath. “I fell for you too.”

Derek just looked at him, blinking confused, beautiful eyes.

“I have wanted to tell you.. I came to tell you that, but I got caught up in all the other stuff...” he trailed off.

“I should have told you” Derek rubbed the back of his neck looking uncomfortable. “everything”

“I probably could have asked instead of stalking you.” Their eyes caught and they both smirked a little.

“I guess there were a lot of things we could have done differently” There was a wistfulness in Derek's voice that made Stiles heart ache.

“Well there's one thing that I would have liked to do more of” Stiles closed the distance between them and brought a hand to Derek's chest. His felt the other man's heart beating against his palm. He stared at his hand, not daring to look up.

Suddenly Derek's lips were on his, searing and sweet. Stile's breath hitched and he pressed closer to Derek's body, melting into the heat he found there.

More then anything, this felt right.

Stiles pulled away first and looked around. He quickly chose a promising hall of doors and grabbed Derek's hand to pull him in that direction. He was rewarded by the sight of Derek's bed through door number two. Rumpled dark blue sheets and a crisp white comforter beckoned. He had never wanted something so badly. Derek seemed to feel the same, because they were both on the bed in a flash and back to making out. Derek was hard underneath Stiles' leg and Stiles pressed in. When Derek made a cut off sound in response Stiles rolled so he was on top and ground down pressing them both together in a mind blowing pass of friction. Derek's hands sought Stiles' skin under his shirt and Stiles paused long enough to give them both time to take off their shirts and throw them to the side. Derek's eyes darted around Stiles' naked body and back up to his face.

“Beautiful” he breathed and Stiles blushed.

“Look who's talking man” but Derek ignored him in favour of kissing, licking and biting every inch of skin he could get his mouth on.  
Derek rolled them again and pushed Stiles' shoulders into the bed, eyes telling him to stay down. Then Derek moved down his body and pulled off Stiles' pants on the way. When Derek took him into his mouth, Stiles swore he saw stars. The heat and suction was incredible. Too soon Derek stopped and came back up, this time without any clothes left on. Derek's body was a tanned version of a marble statue. What did he think he was? Some sort of greek god? His shoulder muscles bunched and turned as he crawled up the bed to kiss Stiles' ruined mouth again. Gentler this time.

“I need to fuck you” Derek whispered against his mouth. “Let me fuck you Stiles”.

“Holy shit yeah. Yes. Fuck me” Stiles mumbled back, chasing the heat of Derek's lips again.

Derek groaned as he pulled away again, but only briefly, to reach into his side drawer for a bottle of lube. Stiles watched him slick up two of his fingers and then play around his hole until Stiles was practically begging for Derek to push in. It was tight but Stiles relaxed into it and once Derek found his sweet spot and curled his fingers in right there, Stiles was literally begging for more. A tirade of _please_ and _fuck_ and _more_.

Derek cursed like he couldn't hold back anymore and Stiles felt the bed move and then the head of Derek's dick pushed against Stiles' opening. Stiles' eyes flew open wide and he found himself looking into Derek's as they both held still waiting for their bodies to adjust. The moment cracked with intensity and then Derek slowly pressed in. Stiles felt full, so full, and he wiggled a little to test out the new sensations. Derek's breathing above him was laboured and Stiles could see his arms shaking ever so slightly. Stiles smiled a small private smile, totally happy with who he was sharing this with. He felt himself relax the rest of the way then and he brushed his hand up through Derek's dark hair and pulled him down into another deep, messy kiss.

“Now move” Stiles said and Derek did. The bed rocked with their motions, hard and deep and filling Stiles' very soul with everything he had been missing. When the tension was too much to bear, Stiles reached down to grab himself, but Derek batted his hand away replacing it with his own. Two tugs and Stiles was coming, hot spurts all over his chest. Derek grunted and pulsed into him while his hand stuttered but continued to work Stiles through his own orgasm.  
After what felt like the longest moment of ecstasy of his entire life, Derek pulled out and collapsed next to him in bed. Stiles looked over at him and Derek looked back. There was something between them and it was as unexplainable as it was beautiful. There were some kinks to work out no doubt, but Stiles was willing to work. For this man, he could become a better version of himself. It was time for that anyways.

“I have something for you” Stiles said sleepily and reached beside the bed to find his pants pocket, looking for the watch he had kept on him, inexplicably, for the last few days. He passed it to Derek.

“Stiles?” Derek questioned

“It made me think of you. And since I guess we are finding out that I'm a hopeless romantic, I had to buy it for you. Its a gift. A boyfriend gift.... if you'll have it?” The question was clear.

“I love it Stiles.” Derek said putting the watch on. “I think I may just keep it forever.”

Stiles just smiled, warm and happy, and Derek laughed softly into the growing darkness of the room.

“We never got to eat. I'll order something from downstairs” Derek reached for his phone. “Then a movie on my couch tonight?”

“Hell yes to the food. But I'm going to pass on the movie. There's something I need to do when I get home.”

Derek nodded in acquiescence and made the call.

 

Finding the evidence was harder then Stiles had thought it would be. There were pass protected firewalls and a bit of hacking to be done before he even got into the right area on the database. He did all of this from his laptop back in the place where it all started. The club. Last night, after he had come home, he had spent some time alone in his room contemplating just how he could pull this off. It became abundantly clear that to get the info, he would be exposing himself. The passwords and security codes would be traceable to him and his own user ID would help to get deeper into the system. It was a price he found he was finally willing to pay. The only issue was speed. He needed to get the information fast enough that the company data security team didn't notice what he was doing and stop him. That brought him to today, here, eating his last club sandwich and using the club WIFI. He could feel sweat break out on his forehead as he searched through the mess of data pathways.  
But then...There. Finally he was in. He looked through emails until he spotted what he was looking for. His heart sunk, a part of him had wanted this all to be a misunderstanding and his uncle to be exonerated. For everything terrible that had happened to Derek's family just be a horrible accident. But it was all here, clear in black and white email correspondence. The fire had been a scare tactic gone wrong. The family wasn't meant to have died, but it was ordered by his Uncle himself and that put the onus directly on his head. Stiles didn't dwell too long, just popped in his USB stick and transferred all the files, making sure to send a second copy to himself and close the database. He stood up, leaving his computer on the table and looked around for the last time. He nodded to himself once and walked out the front door. He popped out his phone and called Derek as he took the steps two at a time, feeling lighter then he had in years.

“Derek” he said “I have your evidence. Can I get a ride?”

 

Derek pulled up on a motorcycle. Of course he had a motorcycle, the man was a walking sex advertisment. But Derek's eyes were concerned, and when he spoke, he got straight to the point.

“You'll be disowned. He's a bastard, but he's your only family. I never would have asked you to do this Stiles."

“I'm not doing it just for you. It's something I should have done a long time ago. It's not right what he gets aways with” Stiles passed Derek the USB drive and Derek tucked the small yellow rectangle into his pocket.

“This is just the beginning of the fight you know. It will be in court for years, we may not even win at the end of it.” Derek pressed.

“No one said justice was easy.” Stiles took the extra helmet out of Derek's hand “I know what I'm getting into Derek. I'm not afraid. Freedom is better then wealth. And besides....” Stiles buckled his helmet and straddled the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around Derek's waist. “...I have you.”

“Yeah you got me” Derek's voice was gruff but undeniably happy, and that made Stiles grin. Then they pulled away from the curb, headed West, towards the California sunset.

**Author's Note:**

> Did they just ride off into the sunset? Yup. They sure did. So much cheese right? 
> 
> Also, can we all please just ignore my lack of computer/hacker/general tech knowledge? I had to ask someone much smarter then me just to get the semi-technical words that I did use in that part. 
> 
> Thanks for reading guys!!! Comments always welcome :)


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